\"You've been playing a long time,Sire...\" That was exactly how King Neibolt felt. He didn't know the exact amount of time he'd spent carting slaves to the New Territories, along with silk, wood, and other valuables. His ship was old and in constant need of repair and he'd discovered, to his horror, that seasickness COULD recur at any time a man sailed the seas. Enough was enough. He had no desire to return to his homeland of Trios, which he had once ruled. \"Silly peasants. The slave trade is VERY lucrative.\" he'd mumbled more then once to himself. They could take his home from him but not the title. He was KING Neibolt. On his many journeys, he'd spied an island that appeared uninhabited. He'd once gone ashore and was immediately enchanted by the coastline, which didn't move disturbingly beneath his feet. This would be his new home! Neibolt's Territory! He could stroll the beach at his leisure, do a bit of fishing(maybe even get over the aversion to taking them off the line himself)grow a beard, and listen to the silence. Since volleyballs didn't exist, he knew that sooner or later he'd have to have some company. What better company than his loyal troops? They were as weary as he of traveling the seas. They could all sit about the fire in the evening....scratch places that couldn't be scratched in public...and enjoy each others' manly unwashed aroma.
But...no. It just wasn't meant to be that way....some....some....interloper...had moved in and settled on HIS beach. This just wouldn't do. His men were eager to fight...apparently the idea of sniffing each other around the fire at night wasn't an idea they were looking forward to....and they could hardly wait for the intruder to make himself at home.